<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>extra credit by iihappydaysii</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30088209">extra credit</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/pseuds/iihappydaysii'>iihappydaysii</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lord John Series - Diana Gabaldon, Outlander &amp; Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Explicit Sexual Content, Fantasizing, High School, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Spanking, Teacher/Student, just call me m night happydays, teacher!lord john, with a twist ending</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:13:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,532</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30088209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/pseuds/iihappydaysii</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Brian Randall (Jamie Fraser's gay son, of course) needs to get his grade up in his trig class taught by who other than his father's friend,  John Grey.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lord John Grey/Brian Randall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Lord John Grey AU Event 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>extra credit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the LordJohnGreyAUevent2021 - my bingo square was teacher, what else could I do? (read the tags)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Brian just wasn’t good at math. No matter how hard he tried, he didn’t have the mind for it. And with his twin sister a couple years ahead in math and absolutely brilliant in the subject, his teachers always expected more from him than he could give. Mr. Grey was no exception. In fact, he was harder on him than anyone. </p>
<p>The man was always hovering over him as he worked. Asking to see Brian after class. Offering to tutor him. Brian had turned him down not because he didn’t need tutoring—he did and desperately—but because every time Brian was within six feet of his trig teacher, he’d pop a goddamn boner. He’d probably jizz his pants if he had to sit through a whole private tutoring session with Mr. Grey. And seeing as Mr. Grey happened to be old friends with his birth father, well, that wouldn’t go well now would it</p>
<p>For now, however, his teacher was walking down the aisles of the classroom, returning last week’s test grades to the students. Brian watched the faces of his classmates, and the varied array of reactions to their scores. Overall, most seemed pleased. </p>
<p>Brian smelled lemon and warm wood as Mr. Grey stood beside his desk. He placed the test down in front of Brian. His hand was covering the test score, the fluorescent light gleaming off the sapphire ring he always wore on his pinky. That damn ring was way hotter than it should’ve been. “See me after class, Brian,” he said sternly and then lifted his hand to reveal a red letter F.</p>
<p>Fuck. Brian’s heart sank. As Mr. Grey finished handing out the tests, anxiety managed to knot his stomach into a big twisty ball of Christmas lights. It wasn’t even about the grade. He’d already been accepted to college next year, and it was not on the merits of his math scores. It just sucked because Brian hated being embarrassed in front of Mr. Grey. He was so stupidly handsome, all well-postured with those tight muscles and if Brian noticed the shape of his bulge in this one particular pair of olive chinos... God, why couldn’t Mr. Grey teach like government or history or English? Then maybe he’d have a chance to impress him. </p>
<p>The bell rang and the chairs squealed on linoleum as everyone in class jumped out of the desk chairs and clambered towards the door. Brian just stayed in chair, clutching his test, that Christmas light ball of anxiety flashing all the colors now, popping and sizzling, about to cause a house fire. </p>
<p>As the last student left, Brian finally stood pulling the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. He did his walk-of-shame to the front of the class, the laces of his Converse clattering on the floor as he walked. His lips were dry and he licked them, tasting the singular flavor of original Chapstick.</p>
<p>Mr. Grey was standing in front of his desk, leaning back on it with his hand. His white shirt was rolled up around his forearms and his tie was loosened around his neck in the perfect way to show off his Adam’s apple.</p>
<p>
  <em>Don’t get a boner, you idiot. </em>
</p>
<p>“Brian,” Mr. Grey said soberly. “We need to discuss your grade.”</p>
<p>“Look, Mr. Grey, I know I bombed this test, but I really am trying my best.”</p>
<p>Mr. Grey gave him a sympathetic smile. “And I really wish I could give you a better grade, but I have to give you the grade you earn.”</p>
<p>Brian considered this for a moment. “Isn’t there another way I can earn the grade? What about extra credit?”</p>
<p>“Hmm… well, it would have to be maths-related of course, and I mean this with compassion, you haven’t shown yourself to be particularly capable in that area.”</p>
<p>That stung, but Brian couldn’t argue the point, so he just stood there, hands stuffed into his hoodie pocket, blinking.</p>
<p>“Is there something maths-related you feel comfortable with?”</p>
<p>Brian flushed, embarrassed. “I can count,” he replied with a smirk, hoping his humor could cloak that embarrassment. </p>
<p>Mr. Grey, however, did not laugh. “Well, what is it you would like to count?” he said in that low, controlled voice that sent unwelcome waves of arousal through Brian. </p>
<p><em>You could spank me and I could count that</em>, Brian thought.</p>
<p>His teacher raised a single well-groomed eyebrow, his lip tilting into a smirk. “Alright then.” Mr. Grey stepped away from his desk, then gestured towards it. “Bend over then.”</p>
<p><em>Oh. Oh shit.</em> He’d said that crazy thing about spanking aloud. He’d been so nervous and distracted he hadn’t realized and… <em>fuck, wait… had Mr. Grey just agreed to it? </em></p>
<p>“O-okay,” he said, trying not to smile even though internally he was doing the sort of victory dance that he’d break several bones doing if he tried it in real life. </p>
<p>Brian approached the desk and leaned over it, heart pounding, his dick pressing hard against the fly of his ripped jeans.</p>
<p>Mr. Grey strode to the door and locked it, then walked back to the desk. He opened the top drawer and pulled out a wooden ruler. Brian gasped at the sight of it.</p>
<p>When Mr. Grey said, “Drop your trousers,” the relief Brian felt could not be overstated his dick was way too hard for the tightness of his jeans. Brian fumbled to unbutton and unzip them and let the denim fall around his ankles. </p>
<p>Warm fingers—not his own— slipped underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs and pulled down until they were around his thighs. Brian couldn’t move easily, his legs constricted by  fabric and he reveled in the feeling of being trapped between the desk and Mr. Grey’s firm body.</p>
<p>“Hmm… there were what? A hundred and twelve points on that test, and what was your score again?”</p>
<p>“Sixty-three, sir.”</p>
<p>“That leaves you with forty-nine points you need to make up.” Mr. Grey began to run the corner of the ruler over Brian’s arse in a slow, curving motion. “If we make it an even fifty and then make each…” he very lightly smacked the ruler against Brian’s flesh, making him jump. “...correction worth two points, how many will that be?”</p>
<p>“Umm…” Brian felt his body warm, and he wondered if his teacher could see the flush on his bare ass. He should know how to do simple division. Yet, right now, numbers were a jumble in his head and he was coming up with nothing. “I… I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Dear God,” Mr. Grey groaned. He grabbed one of Brian’s ass cheeks, squeezed, then let go. It jiggled and Brian could feel the man just watching the motion. “You really are awful at maths. The answer is twenty-five. You can count to twenty-five can’t you?”</p>
<p>“Y-yes, sir.”</p>
<p>The ruler trailed delicately over the skin again, then Mr. Grey said, “Good boy” and swung the ruler down for the first correction. </p>
<p>The sting was sharp and shocked Brian. He gasped and shuddered, then pressed his face to the cool desk to keep calm. “One,” he finally managed. </p>
<p>“That’s right,” Mr. Grey said. “Two points.” And the ruler came down again. Even harder this time. </p>
<p>Brian cried out, then struggled out, “Two.”</p>
<p>The ‘corrections’, as Mr. Grey had called them, went on and on like this, each smack varied from the last. Harder or softer, sharper or duller, in different places all over the bare skin of his ass. Brian couldn’t wait to see later what it looked like, the flushed reminders of his fantasy come true. </p>
<p>When they hit eighteen, Brian’s back was aching from how he’d been laid over the desk and he scooted back to get more comfortable. No longer was his cock, and its intense hardness, hidden against the desk, instead it was hanging down between his legs, thick and dripping, his balls heavy and hanging down.</p>
<p>“Sweet Jesus,” Mr. Grey breathed the words. Both his large hands came down on Brian’s ass and pulled the cheeks apart. “Fuck. Perfect.” This time the ruler came down with a snap against hole. </p>
<p>That one actually kind of hurt, and Brian actually loved it. He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t even bother to hide his moan. He turned his head to the left, and that moan was nearly cut off by a laugh at the sight of Mr. Grey’s coffee mug. <em>‘World’s Best Teacher’, indeed. </em></p>
<p>When they reached twenty-four, Brian’s heart sank. Twenty-five was next and then it would all be over, and he’d have to slink off to the boy’s bathroom and relieve himself over one of the dirty toilets, probably for all this to never be spoken of again. But that final correction didn’t come. Instead, Mr. Grey’s finger, his warm, rough perfect finger, slid over Brian’s asshole. He shivered, and his cock twitched and leaked. </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Mr. Grey muttered, then guided Brian to turn. When Brian saw his teacher, he nearly passed out. It was by far the most attractive sight he’d seen in his eighteen years of life. The man was flush-faced, hair disheveled, and the bulge in his chinos was unmistakable. </p>
<p>Mr. Grey unbuckled his belt and the sound of the clinking metal was so sexy that Brian really thought he might pass out. Before he knew it, Mr. Grey’s cock was out, long and thick, and as desperate looking as Brian’s own. “Come here,” he growled, wrapping his strong hands around the frayed drawstrings of Brian’s hoody. </p>
<p>For a brief moment, Brian thought his teacher was going to kiss him, but then he was being guided down and his knees hit the rough, industrial carpet, and there was a thick cock against his lips and he was opening his mouth to let it in. </p>
<p>He tasted like soap and salt and something singularly Mr. Grey. Warm hands smoothed over Brian’s cheeks and then into his messy curls where they gripped and tilted Brian’s head back so their eyes could meet.  </p>
<p>“Christ, you were meant for this, weren’t you?”</p>
<p>Brian hummed his agreement around Mr. Grey’s cock, that was sliding in and out of his mouth with an almost punishing rhythm. But Brian loved every second of the stretch and the friction and the ache. He could only imagine how much he would love the taste of his teacher spilling in his mouth and letting him swallow it down so he could feel it sticky in his throat and warm in his belly. </p>
<p>That never happened though because Mr. Grey was pulling him up to his feet again and this time, Mr. Grey did kiss him. </p>
<p>Oh, Brian had been kissed before. By girls back when he was trying to prove a point. By boys who would shove him the next day in the hallway. Even rarely by boys he genuinely liked who liked him. But he’d never been kissed like this. He wasn’t really sure anyone had ever been kissed like this. </p>
<p>He was still reeling from it, on fire from it, when Mr. Grey shoved what he could off the desk and laid Brian back on it. “Touch yourself,” he commanded, then dropped down to frantically pull Brian’s sneakers, jeans and underwear off. He kicked them to the side and stood back up, wrapping Brian’s legs around his waist.</p>
<p>Brian felt the slick tip of his teacher’s cock beginning to press inside him and his heart flipped in his chest. Mr. Grey cupped Brian’s cheek, stroking his thumb over the skin. “Have you ever done this before?” he whispered.</p>
<p>Brian swallowed, then shook his head. He’d actually never had anything inside him before. He’d wanted to, a lot, but he could never get the angle right with his own hand and he was too much of a chicken to try anything random they had around the house. </p>
<p>“Deep breath,” Mr. Grey said. “I’ll make it good.”</p>
<p>“Yes, sir,” Brian said and breathed in.</p>
<p>The pressure was intense, overwhelming, but in the best way. He started to cry out, unsure what else to do with a feeling this much. </p>
<p>Mr. Grey threw a hand over Brian’s mouth. “Hush,” he ordered, then slipped his hand away, continuing to push slowly in until Brian could feel his teacher’s balls warm against his thighs. Mr. Grey braced one hand on the desk and took Brian’s dick into his other hand and then he, well, then he fucked him. </p>
<p>There was little other way to describe it than being fucked. Not that that was a bad thing. Far from it. Brian was obsessed with it. The feeling of being split open, of being taken, of the pressure and the building pleasure. That edge of pain that was neighbors with a kind of exquisite panic born from a loss of control. At the same time that he was doing his best to live in the moment, Brian couldn’t help but think about how much he knew he’d want to do this again and again and again.</p>
<p>Breathing heavily, Mr. Grey grabbed the ruler from the edge of the desk. He kept fucking into Brian in slow thrusts as he stroked Brian’s cock and Brian could feel himself getting closer to that release with each thrust, with this teacher’s dick sliding against some perfect place inside him he’d never felt before.</p>
<p>Mr. Grey let go his cock then took the ruler and smacked it hard and sharp against Brian’s cock. He yelped, and the twenty-five in his throat was cut off by the incomprehensible pleasure of release.</p>
<p>“Christ, Brian. That was… perfect. You’re gorgeous. Oh God.” Mr. Grey picked up his pace, frenzied and wild. “Fuck. I’m going to come.” He crushed Brian’s mouth in a wild kiss and sank all the way in, twitching and filling him up. </p>
<p>His teacher collapsed onto him, breathing heavily, surrounding Brian in a delicious cloud of that woodsy lemon. Mr. Grey was blindly and mindlessly kissing at his neck and Brian couldn’t help the smile blooming on his face. “So, Mr. Grey, did I pass the test now?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grey blinked at Brian, who was beside him in their bed, propped up on the pillows. “... are you serious?”</p>
<p>Brian shrugged. “You asked, babe.”</p>
<p>“I thought you were going to say something about Star Wars. At worst, I thought it might involve a fursuit.”</p>
<p>“Why do you always think I’m a furry. Ugh.” Brian shook his head. “You asked me what my fantasy was and I told you and now you shame me. You’re a kink-shamer. That’s what you are.”</p>
<p>“I’m not a…” Grey sighed. “If you’re serious about it, you know I’d do anything for you.”</p>
<p>Brian perked up. “Seriously? Like for real?”</p>
<p>Grey rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smile. God, he loved his husband so much even if he had very questionable kinks. “Yeah, but I’m rather certain the only ruler we own has a drawing of Garfield on it. Will that ruin the mood, do you think?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Brian shrugged. “Garfleld could get it.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Grey sighed and rolled his eyes. “For the record, comments like that are why I think you’re a furry.”</p>
<p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>